


No Promises

by kazkazooz



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Michelle Jones, Denial of Feelings, Extramarital Affairs, F/F, F/M, Inspired by Izmeny (TV Mini-Series 2015), Multi, Relationship Problems, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazkazooz/pseuds/kazkazooz
Summary: Michelle Jones has made some bad decisions, and she still do.She wants to be better, though. Whatever that means.
Relationships: Felicia Hardy/Michelle Jones, Michelle Jones/Harry Osborn, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 17
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _WARNING: EVERYONE IN THIS STORY HAS PROBLEMS._  
>   
>  Inspired by Izmeny (TV Mini-Series 2015)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Little Simz – Poison Ivy](https://open.spotify.com/track/3o5ef1ojCIqvvmzzlDzFZG)

It’s almost two in the morning when Peter starts to swing back to his apartment after a long tedious night patrol. He helped an old lady to find her way home, saved two civilians from their muggers and stopped a gang of three heavily armed jewelry store robbers. He got a few scratches and maybe a bruise, all of which will be completely healed by the time the sun rises, so he’s mostly unharmed.

Physically, that is.

This week has been nothing short of a mentally stressful disaster. His job at The Bugle sucked, as always, and Jameson has been extra shitty to him these days for some reason, threatening to fire him if he doesn’t come back with some ‘more scandalous’ pictures of Spider-Man.

It’s making him incredibly paranoid. Sometimes he feels like Jameson knows. About his life. About MJ.

And MJ. He hasn't heard from her for an entire week. It’s not the first time this has happened, so he’s not surprised nor alarmed.

But it doesn’t mean he has ever stopped thinking about her or wanting her. No matter how tired he feels right now, he can swear that he’ll be re-energized in an instant if she were waiting for him in his bed when he returns to the studio apartment he lives in by himself.

But he knows very well of her rule. That she doesn’t stay anywhere other than her own house for the night.

So he doesn’t dream about some miracle that will most likely never happen.

He slips through the window that he left unlocked into his kitchen, closes the window and shuts the blinds before turning on the light, only to be startled by a lithe figure lying languidly on his couch and gazing up to him.

MJ snickers mischievously when he trips over the ottoman.

“Geez…you scared the shit out of me. Why didn’t you turn on the light?” He takes off the mask and combs his hair with his fingers.

“Photophobia. Migraine can be a real bitch, you know?” She is writhing around lazily, covering her eyes with one forearm.

He immediately switches off the light and hurries to squat down at her side.

“You okay? Do you need painkillers? Or should I give you a massage?” He whispers in a low-pitched voice.

She smiles contently.

“It’s already better once I got here. My house is the most relaxing place in the world and that’s why I’m here.” She coos.

He sighs. He has always known that she loves to screw with him, but he’s not sure how much longer he can take this.

“You mean the house you _designed_.”

He tries to stand up but she stops him by clutching his wrist. She pulls him down to kiss her, and he complies.

He simply doesn’t know how to resist her.

“What’s the difference? I crafted this place.” she breathes heavily during the short breaks between their deep kisses, “And I own the owner of this place.”

He’s hovering above her on the couch, already half-hard in his boxer under his skin-tight suit. His body wants to give in to the temptation and just enjoy another guaranteed great sex with her, but his mind, both rationally and emotionally, wants to get to the bottom of why she’s here tonight.

“Where’s Harry? Is he not at home tonight?” He can’t stop himself from blurting out.

She freezes and fixes him a venomous glare.

“How should I know?”

“He’s your husband.”

Peter never stops feeling guilty about the affair. But he has only been falling deeper and deeper for her ever since the night they met during one of his patrols.

The heartbreaking look in her red teary eyes, her messy long hair and her clothes that were drenched by the pouring rain clinging to her face and body, her shoulders heaving with her sobs…

He will never be able to shake that mental image off his mind.

MJ scoffs, pulling Peter out of his train of thoughts.

“Tell me about it.” She mutters.

She pushes Peter off and sits up herself. They are still sitting fairly close to each other on the couch, but the tension in the air between them is almost tangible.

The longer the silence stretches on, the clearer he can see she’s vibrating with anxiety.

Something’s not right.

“What’s wrong?” He tentatively touches her hand. She doesn’t refuse him, so he squeezes both her hands.

“Will you marry me?”

He nearly falls off the couch.

“ _What?_ Are you drunk?” He leans forward, trying to smell the alcohol.

“Will you marry me, if Harry’s not around anymore?”

She stares into his soul, and her eyes are pleading.

Peter’s confused. She has never shown any sign that she wants to leave Harry before. Something must have happened.

“Did something happen to him? Is that why you’re here?” He frowns.

Her face goes blank.

“I killed him.”

He watches her, mouth agape and completely stunned. Then an inexplicable fear rises inside him.

He’s not sure what he’s afraid of. That there’s a possibility she’ll be prosecuted, or hearing her confessing a crime still doesn’t change how he sees her, and therefore he’s starting to questioning his sense of morality and ethical framework in superheroing?

His brain’s barely functioning at this point, but he finds himself hugging her tightly to him and rubbing her back on autopilot.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” he chants softly, “I’ll take care of you, it’s okay…”

“You’ll take care of me even if I did that?” Her voice is wobbly.

“Especially if you did that.” He reassures.

She lets him continue to console her for another five minutes until she speaks up again.

“I didn’t kill him.”

He stops moving his hands, then pulls away to look at her face.

“Then why did you say that?”

“Wanted to know to what extent that you're willing to forgive me.” she smiles wearily, “If killing is okay, does that mean you’ll forgive me for anything else?”

Peter’s head is spinning. She‘s going to be the death of him.

“I don’t know about anything else, but lying about that just to test me…you’re driving me crazy.” He presses on his closed eyes with his fingers, forcing back the tears.

For the past five minutes, he’s been thinking about what to do next. The reason why he never tried to persuade her to leave her husband is that he’s Spider-Man. She’ll be safe staying with Harry, even if she’s not content with their crappy marriage.

But if Harry’s gone, he has to be the one protecting her.

He was thinking about giving up the superhero gig for her, but she was just testing him.

“You passed the test.” She kisses his cheek.

It was just a fleeting dream. A dream in which no one else other than the two of them exists.

But she hasn’t given up on her marriage during the hardest time, so she surely isn’t going to now.

She won’t choose him because she knows he can’t choose her.

“Maybe we should just stop this…” Peter feels his heart sinking.

“Shh. No more talking.”

She pulls him in, kissing him fervently. She pushes the spider emblem on his chest and the suit slackens. Her hands begin to explore every inch of his body, her touch is greedy and fiery…

He gives in to her, like he always does, eventually.

MJ wants something that’s concrete, like the physical contact she’s getting from Peter. She can feel his desire towards her, and it makes her feel warm, secure, content…

What she doesn’t need nor want, are the empty words of promises. She will not allow herself to be fooled by those unreliable fantasies.

Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I wrote this. This story has a happy ending but I don't think anyone wants more of this mess so I most probably will just leave it like this.  
>   
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments lol  
> (Find me on tumblr: [@kazkazoozoo](https://kazkazoozoo.tumblr.com/))  
>   
> update: it's a multi chapter now…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ meets someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [K.Flay — Giver](https://open.spotify.com/track/1ynrjEZaJyv6CA0kFpdNgc)

Michelle has heard enough lies to tell them apart from the truths.

For example, many people would say that they believe marriage is the epitome of romance. That people get married because they’re oh-so in love.

Which she knows is not always the case, to say the least. She herself can attest to that.

She didn’t marry her husband because of love. In fact, she doesn’t think she has ever loved anyone.

She said yes when Harry proposed to her because she wanted a family.

And he did give her one. He’d even given up his own family to make that happen.

He was willing to do anything for her, so she thought she’d be a fool to not take advantage of that and let the opportunity slip away.

She would have felt guilty about her impure motive if the “I love you” that he said to her in his proposal didn’t turn out to be another blatant lie.

Michelle knows next to nothing of love, but she’s pretty sure that if you love someone, you’d at least care about them.

He never asks how her day went, whether she’s hungry or not, or what book she’s reading.

She has never once orgasmed during sex with her husband.

But she doesn’t mind all that much about his indifference. She’s incapable of loving and caring so why should she want those things from anyone, anyway?

Besides, she’s got Peter, who knows how to make her scream using his tongue only. Peter’s enough to make up for what she doesn’t get from Harry, to keep her sexually satiated.

And that’s exactly why she has once again found herself waiting for him in his empty apartment.

She’s been breaking her own rule quite a lot lately—probably has something to do with Harry’s increasing rate of absence from home.

She made the rule of not staying outside overnight because she’s afraid that Harry wouldn’t even care to ask where she had been. She figures that won’t matter if he’s not even at home to begin with.

It’s almost midnight. Peter’s still out there somewhere patrolling. It’s been three hours since their last text exchange.

The little grey bubble on the left side of the screen of her phone reads:

_I’ll be back soon_

So far, she can’t tell whether it’s a lie or not. Three hours isn’t long at all by Peter’s standards.

She puts down her phone after checking it for the sixth time tonight, then huddles under the blanket on the couch in front of the huge flat screen that’s glowing eerily with blue light in the dark living room.

She has already watched a whole bunch of murder documentaries in the past few hours, so she turns on the news just to switch things up a bit.

Nothing particularly interesting appears on the news. Not that she’s looking for a certain superhero who dons a red-and-blue full-body spandex suit swinging between the buildings and saving people, no.

She just wants something—or someone—that can keep her mind busy so she doesn’t start contemplating how stagnant her life has been.

So she waits.

For one hour.

Then two hours.

And three hours have passed, but Peter’s still nowhere to be found.

_You alright?_

The message she sent an hour ago is still unread.

Her intense glare can burn holes through her phone if she were able to channel her irritation into actual laser beams.

The calming and relaxing effects of the apartment have faded by now. She’s getting crankier by the second and her desire to get laid is almost completely replaced by her desire to get a restful sleep.

If she’s not getting any tonight, then she might as well go home and sleep in her own bed, alone.

Because her motive for coming back to this apartment well after her job of interior designing was done _is pure_.

She doesn’t come to Peter again and again because she’s always worried that he might hurt himself fighting some supervillain. She didn’t learn how to stitch up a wound nicely just because of that one time he came back all bloody and it really scared her. She’s not trying to be a haven of peace for him or secretly hoping he’d trust her enough to confide in her.

All she wants from him is sex, and nothing more.

She wants to believe that these are all the truths. Because the alternative is that she loves other people more than they’ll ever love her, and that feeling really, really sucks.

* * *

The engine is rumbling and the headlights are on. Her car is all set and ready to take her home.

But Michelle’s been sitting behind the wheel for a good ten minutes, her body unmoving yet her mind unsettled. Every part of her body is buzzing with an unknown fear for an unanticipated future.

Somehow, it feels like the universe is trying to warn her against a storm that’s coming after her.

She’s afraid to make a move, but she doesn’t want to go back to where she was, either.

She’s drowned in her own thoughts until a sudden, loud bump startles her, followed by her car door being forcefully opened and an unfamiliar figure sliding into the passenger seat.

“What the-!? Get out of my car!” Michelle shouts at the person while discreetly reaching for the pepper spray she has in her bag.

That person turns to look straight into her face. Half of their face is covered in a mask and she can barely see in the dark, but she manages to make out the shape of their red lips twisting into a smirk.

“You mind if I borrow your car for a day or two? It’s kind of an emergency.” The woman’s voice is husky and breathy, sort of like a combination of whispering and panting.

“Actually I do mind,” Michelle’s voice is trembling due to the surging adrenaline, “and don’t make me say this again: _get out_.”

Her assertive statement is still hanging in the air when the woman’s arm moves at a surprising speed and agility, aiming at her airway.

Luckily, Michelle has seen that coming. She blocks the attack before locking the woman’s arm with one hand and pointing the spray at her face with the other.

The skills she learned from Peter does have some use, it seems.

The aggressor appears to be impressed, musingly laughed at herself.

Meanwhile, Michelle registers a scent of blood and she notices the black full-body suit that the woman’s wearing is torn at her thigh. A dribble of dark red liquid is slowly oozing from the wound.

Michelle winces at the sight. It reminds her of that time Peter came back in such bad shape that she was petrified for a good while.

“You’re bleeding. I think you should go to the ER.” Michelle says in a rather calm manner.

“No!” The woman hisses while putting pressure on her wound with her free hand.

Michelle sees how hard she’s trying to hide the discomfort from her expressionless yet ashen face and the droplets of sweat strolling down her forehead.

Then MJ says something that surprises the stranger as well as herself.

“Tell me where you want to go and I’ll drive you there.”

The woman’s whole body jolts as they look into each other’s eyes.

“How do I know if I can trust you?” The woman frowns.

MJ chuckles self-mockingly.

That’s one of the questions that she asks herself every now and then.

“Well, if you can’t trust me then my answer’s not gonna be very helpful, is it?”

The woman wars with herself until the sound of the siren can be heard from a distance. She then starts giving directions without further delay.

MJ drives her through the dark streets, mind blanking out and shivers crawling along her spine.

Driving a stranger who’s very possibly on the run to an unknown destination is dangerously thrilling.

And maybe that’s why she’s willingly doing this. Maybe that’s what she’s been longing for— _the thrill_.

That must be why she enjoys having sex with Peter so much. It gives her the strongest kind of thrill.

To MJ’s surprise, the woman leads them to an upscale apartment complex instead of some sketchy discarded warehouse that she imagined criminals would use as their evil lair. Given that the building has an intricately designed entrance upon entering the underground car park, she supposes the building does offer a great level of security and privacy a criminal needs.

The woman is hesitant when MJ gets off the car and offers to help her out.

But there’s something so confident and convincing about the way MJ carries herself that enables her to have her way almost all the time, including this time.

MJ supports her by her waist until they’re inside the woman’s apartment. She escapes MJ’s grasp and launches herself onto the U-shaped sectional sofa, then proceeds to fumble inside the drawer of the coffee table.

Being an interior designer herself, MJ’s interest is piqued more by the tasteful arrangement of the apartment’s living room than whatever the woman’s doing.

Her attention drifts away and she starts examining, analyzing and comparing the style with her own work. It’s more contemporary and polished compares to the industrial style of Peter’s apartment, but the artworks scattered around the space are raw and feral—reflecting the owner’s personality, she guesses.

“I don’t sleep with people on a first date, so this is your cue to leave. And don’t even think about paybacks, I don’t have cash.”

The woman’s flirty joke intrudes on her thoughts, bringing her attention back.

“I don’t want your money,” MJ says coolly.

“Then what do you want?” She sounds more defensive than earlier.

_What do I want? Why am I even here?_

MJ doesn’t know the answers. The only thing she’s certain is that this isn’t how the night was supposed to go.

Somehow her life always takes unexpected turns and leads her further astray.

MJ shrugs, “Nothing." From her, at least.

“Then leave already.” The woman stands up and tries to shove her out the door, but stumbles in pain.

The way she’s limping reminds her of someone. MJ lurches forward to catch her out of instinct.

“Are you okay? Here, let me take a look at that.” MJ speaks softly.

“I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” The woman groaned, annoyed.

Still, she doesn’t push MJ away. MJ sits next to her on the sofa after helping her this time and takes a better look at the wound.

The cut isn’t too deep. She knows how to clean up the wound and close it with stitches.

“I can help.” MJ nods at her wound.

The woman’s frown deepens. She’s genuinely confused by MJ’s actions.

“Why are you helping a stranger?”

Why would anyone volunteer to help a stranger? MJ wonders that, too.

Is she trying to be a better person? Perhaps she’ll deserve better if she’s more like a certain friendly neighborhood superhero? Maybe, just maybe, for once in her life she wants to know what it feels like to be wanted and needed?

MJ doesn’t know the answer, so she only repeats:

“Let me help you.”

MJ’s persuasive eyes strike again. The assertive yet vulnerable quality of her tone makes it hard to resist her pleas.

She can make people fall under her spell easily, if she wants to.

Despite how defiant the woman has been, she does not prove that statement wrong.

She lets MJ clean up the dried blood, sterilize the adjacent area and suture the wound closed.

MJ’s maneuvers are skillful and precise, but her touches are gentle and careful, making the woman shivers involuntarily.

The treatment is completed, and that’s where MJ’s help is supposed to end.

But she doesn’t want to go back to that empty home just yet.

The woman’s about to remove her legs off of MJ’s thighs, but MJ holds her in place.

“You need help to get the spandex off?”

The woman arches her brow.

“You’re not seriously trying to get into my pants, are you?”

MJ stares at her. The woman’s face goes pinker the longer she holds her gaze.

It arouses her for some reason; she remembers how Peter gets easily flustered every time she teases him.

She was upset that her night didn’t go accordingly: she didn’t get what she wants from Peter tonight.

But who’s stopping her from having sex with someone else? Harry’s her husband, but he doesn’t care. Peter’s her favorite lay, but they don’t have contractual obligations to obey the monogamy.

“What if I am?”

MJ’s hand wanders around her thigh, carefully avoiding the wound. The woman squirms nervously under her touch, anticipating.

The texture of her spandex differs from Peter’s suit; her muscles are firm, but softer than Peter’s; the pitch of her quiet moans is higher than Peter’s.

But she’s here, and MJ can feel she wants her.

The woman gives in to her teasing, grabbing onto her shoulders and crashing her lips to MJ’s.

MJ kisses her back. Everything feels wrong, but it feels good to be wanted.

And that’s all she wants for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a mess. Obviously Peter and MJ is my OTP but they still have a long way to go. Literally nothing but angst before the eventual happy ending. Don't know if I'll be motivated enough to finish this story, though.
> 
> You can yell at me in the comments or ask me anything on tumblr: [@kazkazoozoo](https://kazkazoozoo.tumblr.com/)


End file.
